


Could've Been Should've Been

by Edoro



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, not xeno for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoro/pseuds/Edoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave didn't expect his dorky bubblemate to jump him like it was going out of style, but he's definitely not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could've Been Should've Been

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for Maxie!

_every dawn you’re surprising  
-Modest Mouse - Dashboard_

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’ve decided aliens are fucking crazy.

Living with one wasn’t so bad. The dreambubble could get kind of monotonous by yourself, the same day and afternoon and night playing over and over again like a really lazy cartoon, the Platonic ideal of a Houston summer day in and day out. Tavros isn’t so bad to hang out with, even if he’s got a near-terminal case of being a complete fucking goober.

Your bubbles stitching themselves together into some Frankensteinian nightmare of downtown Houston and Tavros’ murderplanet was weird, but you could handle it. The constant attempts to slam with you are agonizing, but you figure you’ve got to keep your skills up anyway you can, even if it means wrecking helpless dorks.

The thing where he suddenly started getting weirdly, cheerfully aggressive with you was a little worrying, but you’d missed the opportunity to have strife regularly. Not being ambushed by puppet dong was all fine and well, but you’d been getting edgy and restless not doing anything. And Tavros was more of a challenge than you’d imagined. He’s nearly half a foot shorter but outweighs you by a good thirty pounds, and underneath the baby-faced chub are some pretty impressive muscles. Eight times out of ten he can wrestle your skinny ass to the ground and then rub it in your face, even though you assure him you only let him win because you can’t stand to make Ferdinand the Bull cry.

The thing where he started getting attractive was less cool. He didn’t exactly change, much, but suddenly you’ve started noticing things. Like that his stupid punchable face is also really cute, or that his weird black lips look really soft, or that most of everything he eats goes straight to his ass and it is the. _plushest_. rump. you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and you are not even going to front about Ass Appreciation, it’s a skill that’s been passed down the Strider family line for generations and you are proud to uphold the fine tradition of ogling sweet buns.

You kind of figure popping boners over a weird grey space alien with handlebar horns is basically the ultimate in irony, right up until you start literally popping boners over a weird grey space alien with handlebar horns. Then you mostly figure it’s fucking inconvenient and embarrassing, but you’re basically a dick ninja and he never seems to notice. Do trolls even do boners? Maybe they don’t have schlongs. Maybe grey space aliens puke jizz into buckets and are born with Barbie crotches.

Then Tavros decides to escalate shit by getting weirdly, aggressively friendly with you. It’s maybe a couple weeks after the first time he jumped your ass while you were just innocently walking into the kitchen and set up the fine tradition of living room floor grappling. You’re sitting on the couch, racking up sweet combos in some shitty fighting game, when he just leans up against you and turns to nuzzle your neck, casual as anything, like that isn’t completely fucking weird.

He has to kind of splay himself across your chest to do it without stabbing half his headgear through the couch, so the basic effect is that you’ve now got a buck-fifty worth of grey space alien in your lap, getting all up in your grill. He’s mostly just kind of sniffing at you, which, okay, is really weird, but basically harmless. You keep playing your game and playing cool like he isn’t there, right up until he fucking licks you.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Tavros gives you this weirdly breathy little laugh and curls a hand around your hip. “Uh, sorry? It seemed like a good thing to do, at the time.”

You consider that he might be dying. You consider that he might be infected with horrorterrors, or have brainworms, or something. You consider that he may have just finally snapped and Tavros Nitram’s version of a school shooting is to lick his swank-ass death-bubble neighbor.

“Protip, man, it is never a good thing to lick a dude out of nowhere like that. Get off of me.” You try to shrug him off, to no avail. You try harder, and then actually push, and then somehow the two of you end up sort of wrestling on the couch. He isn’t trying to resist so much as just pulling you with him when you move him, making these weird chirrupy sounds in the back of his throat.

You kick him off the couch and he drags you down on top of him, then tries to roll you both over and pin you. That’s almost always a losing fight for you, and today is no exception. You end up pinned flat on your back, Tavros holding your hands up above your head. Everything is going exactly how it usually does, and you’re about ready to ask if you can get back to your shitty game yet or if he has to gloat a little more, when he kisses you.

It’s clumsy and your teeth click together and, oh yeah, he’s a dead alien wannabe rapper with a space boner for troll Peter Pan. You still roll with it, because you’re Dave motherfucking ‘Motherfucking’ Strider and that’s just how you do. 

Turns out his lips are about as soft as you thought, in between all the little rough scabby bits where he’s been chewing on them. After about a minute of kissing his grip on your wrists relaxes and you get your hands linked up around the back of his neck, one cupping his nape and the other sliding up through his hair. Half of you is busy being thoroughly distracted by liplocking the cute alien boy on top of you, while the other half busily catalogues all the various ways he’s different. 

He’s fever-warm and his skin feels like old, worn leather, soft and thick. His hair feels like the bastard lovechild of kitten fur and bird down, the shaved sides like fuzzy suede. You pretty much just want to pet him forever, and you’re really glad his weirdo psychic powers don’t include mind-reading, because you don’t think you could live down the shame of anyone ever knowing you actually thought that.

You two actually manage to get some tongue action going without any lacerations, despite his mouth looking like the Big Book of British Smiles had a baby with a shark and then hit it with a sack of nickels. They feel more like dog teeth, you guess, not that you’ve ever actually licked the inside of a dog’s mouth or anything. They’re sharp enough when he bites down on your lip, though, enough to flood your mouth with the bitter tang of blood. You bite him back, but all that does is make him groan and roll his hips down against you and oh. Well.

You guess aliens _do_ have schlongs.   
Or, at the very least, something that feels similar enough. You rock back up against him and then he starts honest to god _grinding_ on you, rolling those hips like he’s working for tips. One of your hands decides it really needs to go investigate his ass, which is exactly as big and warm and soft as you expected it to be from visual examinations. He groans again when you squeeze.

This was _not_ how you expected to spend your afternoon.

He breaks away to trail sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, breath puffing out warm and fast against your skin. He’s a lot more worked up than you, which is pretty funny and about what you expected. If there’s anyone who pings higher on the Clueless Virgin radar than Tavros, you haven’t met them.

Then he bites your neck, right where it meets your shoulder.

“Dude, what the hell?” You grab him by a horn and yank his head away, reaching up with your other hand to feel. The skin feels all hot and tight and bruised, already throbbing, and your fingers come away wet. “Not cool, man.”

“Sorry,” he pants out, voice sounding weirdly tight and whiny. He looks fucking wrecked already, flushed and breathing hard and with this desperate lust-hazy look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re - sorry.” He dips his head back down and licks at it in a way you assume is supposed to be apologetic. You’d be more pissed except that actually feels really nice. His tongue is pleasantly wet and warm on your skin and the more he licks at it, the less it hurts, until it’s a vague pleasant kind of ache thoroughly overshadowed by how nice his mouth feels.

The brief distraction helped clear some of the hormone-fog out of your mind, though, and you realize that whatever base you two are going to get to, you’d really rather not do it on your living room floor. Not to mention you just feel horribly exposed and edgy, like someone’s going to come walking in the front door. It’s stupid on about five different levels, but you can’t shake the feeling that your living room is _public_.

“Dude,” you say, grabbing his headgear firmly with both hands and removing his mouth from your neck. “Get off me.”

He stares at you uncomprehendingly. This stupid-sexy look is _stupidly sexy_ on him. You don’t think Tavros Nitram, of all people, has any right to look hot under any circumstances, ever, but he does. He’s lust-wrecked and panting for you, lips wet with your blood, and somehow that sight is what turns your crank. “What? Why?”

“Because as great as all of this is, imagine how much nicer it would be on a bed, instead of on my nasty-ass living room floor with popcorn digging into my ass. Off, dude, up. Let’s go to my room.”

That makes him blush even deeper, all the way down to his shoulders and up to the tips of his ears, but he swings himself off of you and stands up. You give yourself a second to shamelessly scope his hard-on, which is actually a little intimidating from this angle. Like, holy shit, dude’s pitching a three-ring circus in his pants.

You’re repping for Team Earth here, though, so you’ve gotta be smooth. You get up and make a show of dusting yourself off, like you’re hardly even phased by those makeouts that just happened or the prospect of further, sloppier makeouts to come, and lead him towards your bedroom. The attempt at sashaying is totally successful and incredibly ironic.

For some reason, actually being in your bedroom is making Tavros flip his shit a little bit. Apparently he was okay with licking you, wrestling you to the ground, surprise kissing you, and grinding on you like you’d fucking paid him to, but standing in your bedroom is too much. He keeps looking at your bed like it might bite him, and actually squeaks when you push him down on it.

“Getting second thoughts, dude?” Just to be a dick, you stay standing, kind of looming between his spread knees. 

Instead of saying anything, he gets himself two big handfuls of your ass and pulls you in, squeezing like he’s testing fruit at the store. He dips his head down, avoiding your gaze, and fucking _nuzzles_ your crotch. Like a proper, real goddamn nuzzle, rubbing his cheek and nose all along the bulge of your boner like he’s a cat. Nothing will ever be as weird as this.

Tavros manages to let go of your choice rump long enough to flick your jeans open and pull them down around your knees and yeah, okay. Shit is getting real. There’s nothing but a thin layer of cotton between you and his intense regard, somehow no less expressive for the fact that his eyes are creepy death-bubble blank. He traces along the line of your dick like it’s holy, every inch of him rapt, and then follows his finger with oh holy fuck yes his _mouth_ , lipping all warm and just barely wet along your length.

Then he licks and your knees wobble. You grab onto his horns, giving his head a little tug like that’s the only reason why, because like hell are you letting this go know he makes your fucking knees weak. He lets out this satisfied little groan and just goes to town on your dick, licking and suckling through the cloth of your underwear until it’s all damp and molded to the shape of your erection. That should probably be gross, but it’s actually just hot as fuck. 

You are way, way too cool to whine when he pulls away, but you do grit out a strangled _fuck_ and just barely keep from yanking his head back where you want it.

“Can I see it?” he asks, head tilted back to look at you. He looks great there, he really does, every inch of him radiating eagerness. Even the weird brown blushing looks hot. 

“Be my fucking guest, dude, unless normally trolls get it on through the flies of their Fruit of the Looms, or whatever it is you guys wear for underwear. Is your underwear made out of dead babies?”

He ignores you in favor of pulling your boxers down and then just kind of looking at your junk. He gives it real thorough once over, getting a couple of fingers all delicately around it and moving it this way and that, stroking up the length of your shaft and then back down and cupping your balls in his hand, and then leans in and honest to god sniffs you before he starts licking again. The licking is nice, you have to admit, but you’re not so sure about all those nasty-ass teeth so close to something so sensitive.

“Hey, you know how to handle those choppers, right? You seem pretty into this cock-worship thing and I’d just hate for you to accidentally neuter me and then be all bereft and shit, floating lost in the dreambubbles without even Dave’s fantastic dick to keep you company.”

Tavros snorts. “Don’t worry, I won’t, uh, bite you or anything.” He gives you one last long lick, from base to head, and then leans back a little and gets his hand around you.

You’re not expecting him to be good at it. You don’t know what kind of junk aliens pack, although the tent he’s pitching looks normal enough, but if you had to pick anyone to be good at handling strange dicks, it wouldn’t be Tavros Nitram. Tavros Nitram, who stutters and blushes when you start flinging innuendoes back, who once spent thirty minutes explaining the mechanics of the troll version of Yu-Gi-Oh! to you, who thinks white socks with brown sandals with black pants is the ultimate in fashion.

But those warm fingers curl around you like your dick was made to fit in his palm, and after the first few exploratory strokes to get used to the heft of you, he works you like a fucking champ. It’s all long, smooth strokes, with a little wrist twisting thrown in there like garnish, like he’s going for the handjob Olympics and he’s getting gold or he’s not fucking coming home. 

The whole time he keeps his eyes fixed on you with this freakily intense regard. That cock-worship thing was only barely a joke, you guess; he seems more into touching you and watching himself do it than he was into grinding against you earlier. You can feel his excited breath puffing warm and quick against your skin, and every time he draws a little noise out of you he echoes it louder.

Even if you wanted to question his apparent crotch jockey expertise, you are so far beyond being able to it’s not even funny. You can barely even string two coherent thoughts together and you wouldn’t be standing except you’ve got a really firm hold on his horns. You think you’re holding up pretty well for a dude getting what might be the afterlife’s best handjob, right up until he leans in and starts swirling his tongue around the tip while he jerks you, and then you just fucking lose it. 

“Oh fuck, Tavros, shiiit,” you _moan_ , this weird-ass low noise you don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed you made. You curl yourself over his head and shudder and jerk, rhythmless, into his hand, his mouth, all the lazy hot pleasure of it suddenly drawing savage and tight down in your hips and up through your balls until you think you’re going to scream. You do make a noise when it finally snaps, a throaty whine that tries really hard to be his name.

He actually jerks you off into his mouth, tongue cradling your cock as it spasms, which you were ninety percent sure was only a thing people ever did in pornos. You’ve always thought that was kind of weird and also kind of gross, but it’s actually incredibly fucking hot to think he’s that eager to taste your delicious human baby batter.

The way you sink to your knees once your dick is safely away from his mouth is mostly unintentional, because you can’t actually keep standing up, but you’ve got enough control to make it seem totally on purpose and like you just can’t wait to get your mouth on whatever xenofreaky surprise Tavros has got hiding in his jeans. You figure it’s only polite to return the favor, anyway, and your bro raised you right.

Tavros is trembling all over, breath going all tight when you get his pants open. You don’t fuck around with any weird nuzzling shit, you just get right down to business.

Apparently trolls wear boxers with fairies on them, which you definitely cannot forget to taunt him about as soon as possible. His underwear isn’t the important thing here, though. You steel yourself, just in case whatever’s under there is _really weird_ , and peel his pants and underwear both down.

It’s...basically exactly like your setup. His dick is dick-shaped, no weird tentacles or curling fronds or barbed horrors or anything. It’s situated about the same place yours is, although he doesn’t seem to have any balls underneath, just a slightly rounded expanse of bare grey flesh. You guess they must be inside or something. The noise he makes when you rub your fingers over the area lends that theory some credence.

There’s some wet, raised flesh all around it, like a slit it slid out of. You wouldn’t put it past him to have a retractable dick, although you do have to dock some points from whoever made troll junk for not going the whole mile and giving him a pussy too.

It’s grey, just like the rest of him, and weirdly flushed, just like his face and neck, all brown up at the tip and sort of dripping, a little bit. It’s also fucking enormous. You’ve seen enough pictures on the internet to know you stack up pretty well against most guys who aren’t freakishly endowed porn stars, really firmly in the middle of ‘average’, and you are completely shamed by Tavros’ crotch monster.

“Dave?” he asks, breathlessly impatient. “It’s not really that different, from what yours is, right?”

“Hey, hold your horses here, you gotta give a guy to come to terms with this. You’ve laid the fucking holy grail of dicks right at my doorstep and you’re expecting me to just start deepthroating it like I’ll die if you don’t fuck my tonsils right goddamn now? Have some compassion.” You’re not even entirely sure how much of it you can fit in your mouth. It’s not like you’ve ever sucked dick before, but you kind of figured you’d be dealing with something average, or - okay, you’re gonna be honest with yourself. You expected him to be small, because he’s _Tavros_ , and shy nerdlings aren’t supposed to have massive schlongs.

“Dave, please.” Tavros cants his hips forwards and his cock actually jiggles. That shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is. Are you some kind of secret size queen? First it’s hung aliens, and next you’ll be ordering horse dicks off the internet and taking videos of yourself fucking your chest cavity. Edited with sporadically placed five-second screamer gifs, of course, because you have to keep your loving porno audience on their toes. “ _Please_.”

He sounds completely desperate. You half expect him to bust out some line about you stuffing him, or him stuffing you, or someone stuffing some dickmeat somewhere in someone else, like pin the wingwong on the hole. It’s somehow not cheesy at all, though. It’s raw and real and makes your own cock give this feeble little twitch.

You decide to take mercy and get your hands on him. Holding someone else’s junk is weirdly similar to holding your own, but also definitely different. All the feeling is in your fingers, and you’re at a different angle, and the weight and girth of him is completely different than what you’re used to. Team Earth has fucking lost this one, it’s a no-contest, but you have trouble being too upset about it. It still feels really good to hold and stroke, getting used to moving your hand against someone else’s skin. He’s uncut, too, which you’re not really even used to seeing; all the extra loose skin slides when you move your hand. You do a few long strokes right up to the tip just to watch it cover his cockhead, and then get down to serious business.

Tavros drops his head back and grabs at one of your shoulders and whines, hips jerking into your hand as soon as you touch him. He’s all slippery wet with precome, way more of it than you think any human dude would ever make without a thirty minute prostate massage, and all weird copper colored. It makes jerking him pretty easy, at least.

You try to get a decent rhythm going, but he can’t keep still and you can’t really coordinate with his jerky thrusting, so it’s mostly just a mess. Porn and your own personal fun time didn’t prepare you for this, for having your fingers curled around a guy’s cock while he comes unraveled with lust, turns into a trembling, whining wreck who can’t even get out a whole sentence in either of the two languages he has at his disposal or even get it together enough to thrust up properly into your fist instead of just squirming where he’s sitting. You know this handjob is definitely not on the list of Ten Best Handies Dave’s Ever Given and it’s honestly really strange he’s so hot for it, so hot for _you_ , but you’re not going to question a good thing.

You decide that you can’t let this opportunity go by without tasting alien jizz. They all have weird fruity asshole rumpus blood, for all you know they might have delicious candy come. So you lean in and run your tongue up the underside, getting a nice mouthful of whatever it is he’s leaking.

You’ve never actually tasted your own come, because that’s just freaky, but it doesn’t really taste any different than you’ve heard it does. Bitter, kind of salty, with this kind of metallic tang to it. Nothing to write home about, but not bad, either.

“ _Oh_ ,” he whimpers when you lick him, like he just had a holy revelation, and digs his claws hard enough into your shoulder you’re going to need some serious bandaid action later. You’re distracted from the pain by his orgasm, which is just as impressive as his equipment. It goes on for fucking ever, just about, and you are _drenched_ in a truly preposterous amount of splooge. You see why buckets are a thing, now. You kind of wished maybe he’d warned you or something.

You don’t get much of an opportunity to reprimand him, though. Just about as soon as he’s done, he gives your cheek this soft little pat, like _good job, buddy_ , and then flops back on the bed. You stay where you are for a moment just to make sure, yes, this guy totally fucking bukkaked you and then fell asleep.

“Fucking incredible.” You stand up and get your pants done up, consider doing his, and decide that leaving him half naked and wet with his own horrible fluids is at least a good beginning, as far as punishment goes. You’ve got showering and laundry to do, and then a troll to have some Words with.

Next time, you think maybe you’ll do it in the shower.


End file.
